


Feral

by Xobit



Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-26
Updated: 2012-07-26
Packaged: 2017-11-10 22:10:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/471248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xobit/pseuds/Xobit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a planet a long way from Cybertron something impossible is found, only… it is not quite as impossible as it first seemed…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feral

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collaboration piece with megop_murr_miay (LJ)/Murr-Miay (DA) 
> 
> Here is the awesome art [Feral the Art](http://megop-murr-miay.livejournal.com/925.html) <3 go love it! :3

It was a normal meeting, which meant boring. There had been no threats against Cybertronian expansion since the Quintessa war, at times Megatron wished that it had not been ended so quickly. But he was not such a callous ruler that he would wish harm on his own people simply for entertainment.

Megatron shifted in his throne, causing Alpha Trion to falter for a moment as he focused on the High Lord Protector instead of on his report. A flicker of black fingers had him return to his recital of energon production rates and the modernization of the ancient solar harvesters. Dry and boring, but the mech had served the last three Lord High Protectors before Megatron and had, in point of fact, been one of the mechs to bounce him on his knee when he was a sparkling. Boring or not he deserved Megatron’s respect and attention.

But that was part of the problem was it not? There was plenty that he _had to_ pay attention to, but little that he _wanted_ to pay attention to.

The purple and red elder mech finished up and settled down in his seat at the ‘U’ shaped council table. A much younger and completely purple mech rose instead, clawed hands were empty of datapads but one motioned towards a waiting servant who promptly went to key on the big holo projector that dwelled in the floor between the arms of the ‘U’ and Megatron’s throne.

“My lord, my fellow councilors, I have made an interesting discovery,” as the mech spoke in his usual softly cultured voice but there was an unusual lithe to it, an excitement that had Megatron sit up a little straighter and even lean forward a little. Shockwave was not known to be prone to emotions. “This is a newly discovered planet on the edge of sector 2151652, the very rim of our galaxy, only just reached by the gate program in the last vorn.”

The holo projector showed a fairly ordinary system, and as Shockwave spoke it zoomed in on the fifth planet from the sun. A list scrolled up by it, listing resources and life forms readings, all the interesting details the explorer probes had gathered. Zooming further as one such probe landed the audience were shown a lush metallic jungle, and the usual mecha life forms that existed on such damp, young worlds.

“As you can see it is a young world, only a few mega eons, teeming with life and healthy. But,” the holo froze and then blurred before stopping at footage of a wide plain, “this is where the interesting part happens, my lord, my fellow councilors, please keep watching the holo it will only take a few moments for the relevant footage to show up.”

The probe, obviously a hover camera, began circling in a lazy spiral pattern, filming the flat plain and the giant mecha Creatures that lived on it. Megatron knew well that Shockwave would not have brought this up if there was not something significant about it but he was getting impatient to have the meeting over with and there was not…

Primus’ shaft!

He managed to keep the swearing inside his processor, though he did lean forward in his seat, but several of the councilors were not quite as… discreet.

The holo showed a mech, a very Cybertronian looking mech, sneak though the tall grassoid towards a mecha Creature and its young. The mech was comparably small but as the filmed events unfolded it proved that he possessed some formidable weapons.

Sharp claws easily opened wounds in the sparkling Creature’s plating and even made ugly scratches and less serious wounds on the adult Creature. They watched as the mech took down the young creature and fed from it. It seemed that he was only interested in the energy rich fluids, coolant and oil he could get from it. He tore savagely into plating to get to the lines and pipes underneath it. Even bit into the tough armor.

As he slowed down his feeding frenzy they began to note what made him different from a Cybertronian mech. The sharp claws of course, and fanged dentals that were far sharper and larger than any sported by a Cybertronian. Megatron could not help but run his glossa against his own dentals and the comparably blunted fangs he had himself. Instead of finials or other such audiatorial aids this mech had oddly shaped shells that moved back and forth independently. In fact much like the audio shells found on Cybercats or turbofoxes… he also sported a tail, long, thin and sleek it trashed agitatedly against the flattened grassoids.

It became increasingly clear that the mech was keeping an optic on his surroundings, that he was even aware of the hovering camera probe. It had one lucky shot where it zoomed in just as he glanced up, the optics were blue with what looked a lot like an elongated yellow pupil that moved about searchingly.

He might be gorging himself on the creature’s life fluids but he was not at ease or relaxed and quiet suddenly he stiffened and then ran off, first on all fours in a somewhat clumsy run and then he righted himself running on two legs and surprisingly fast. The probe scanned the area and captured four large predators that homed in on the kill, they made short work of the small husk, growling and clawing at each other.

The probe had not been programmed to distinguish between interesting and more interesting. It had stopped to film a local predator and it remained to film the feeding frenzy of the new arrivals. The holo was paused there; the four beasts froze while tearing the husk apart.

“As you may all know this should not be possible, other probes caught footage of creatures like this one, sadly in the same low quality and with the same filters so we can say nothing of coloration and the like… but the fact remains that these mechs… these Ferals should not be possible on this planet at this time in its development. Furthermore there is evidence of them building homes when they cannot find suitable caves, of them using fire as a tool and using tools in general. Primitive, very much so, but far more sophisticated still than they should by rights be! I would like to go retrieve some, to figure out what and who they are, my lord, my fellow councilors,” Shockwave’s one optic glowed bright with excitement. This was the young councilor’s first chance to show real initiative but…

“What would you hope to accomplish with this, Shockwave?” Megatron asked the question calmly, though he truly hoped that Shockwave would come up with a good answer.

“I have an interest in seeing the level of their intelligence, in knowing more about them in general… for example why they cannot seem to feed on anything but the life fluids of other Creatures. If they prove to be of suitable intelligence it would be… an idea to try and domesticate some of them. They are lovely and exotic, but not so different from us,” several of the councilor brightened at that and Megatron had to admit that he found a certain thrill in the idea too. For all his foreignness the feral mech had been… beautiful.

“Very well, we shall go to this would together then… a hunt would not be a bad distraction with how smoothly everything runs. But,” he paused waiting till he had the undivided attention of all mechs in the room, not only the councilors, “if we find these beings to be on our level of intelligence I will not allow keeping them as slaves! And before any are taken, Shockwave, you will determine how many can be stolen without weakening the species!”

That pretty much ended the meeting, but there was excitement in the air rather than relief. Soundwave thanked him personally and vowed to travel the very next orn to determine if it was sensible to hunt down and capture a group of the feral mechs.

* * *

Half a groon later Megatron seated himself in his throne aboard the Nemesis, his flag ship. It was approaching the young planet of the ferals. Shockwave had given it the designation Prime three.

The waste plains covering almost as much of Prime three as the jungle did were dully metallic yellow with patches of brightly shiny metallic blue, green and purple grassoids around water sources. Not unlike some of the plains on Cybertron, though not the same colors obviously. The jungles were predominantly green, blue and red but also held orange and yellow. The more temperate climates held the same colors but darker and all dying things turn dull yellow. Even the creatures.

All over the diverse young world were tribes of the feral mechs. They were not many and not as tightly knit as to be called a village or a true tribe but close enough that they could help each other with larger prey and on occasion against one of the immense predators that roamed the lands.

Shockwave had determined that removing one or two from each ‘tribe’ territory would not have an adverse effect on the loose society. He further had put together an interesting report on how the ferals interacted. They were somewhat social but very guarded, it seemed that gatherings of them attracted attention from predators and so they avoided that.

The one mating that the scientist councilor had managed to see had been brutal, a fight that left both mechs wounded and had the victor mounting the looser from behind for a harsh coupling before turning the looser over and initiating a full mating, nearly forcing the loser’s chest plating open. Interestingly enough the ferals seemed to have the same equipment as any Cybertronian. Spike, valve and spark.

It seemed that both mechs would join in on the upbringing of any conceived sparkling but the sire’s only part was to bring food to the pregnant mech and occasionally also food as the sparkling grew older. This was mostly theory though as Shockwave had not been able to observe much of the interactions as the carrying mech hid in a cave or other form of safe and defensible home as soon as he became too heavy to hunt for himself in any form of safety.

The world was indeed a brutal one, few creatures were much smaller than the feral mechs and by far most were two to four times larger. With a few ranging even larger than that.

Shockwave insisted that there was something truly odd about the ferals and their existence on the young planet but all in all that just meant there was more reason to capture some.

And so the hunt was to begin as soon as Megatron arrived.

He looked forward to it immensely. The clear visuals of the ferals showed very beautiful, somewhat scarred lithe mechs with brilliant colors of red, orange, blue, green and highlights or delicate patterns of silver, purple, gold, yellow and black.

For all their size was small they were fierce and strong. Not unworthy prey, though this was not a regular hunt…

Megatron had decided to keep one for his own, working closely with Shockwave he would tame him… train him if he could be trained.

And if he somewhere deep down wished that the ferals were more than they seemed on the surface?

Well…

* * *

“TO THE RIGHT!” the bellow rang out deep and clear. A mech ducked and a much smaller chassis hurdled though where he had just stood. It landed and rolled before skittering to a stop, claws digging into the loose rusty dirt.

The feral’s plating was dusty but his colors still shone brightly though, blue and red predominantly but also large amounts of dusky silver and deep black. They could not see his highlights or his pattern but they assumed it was there like on all others of his kin.

However this one was proving problematic. The first of the ferals had been taken by trap hunting. All they had needed to do was put out fake husks with recharge drug infused low grade energon in them. Easy… but after the third such catch they found their goal of one hundred ferals met an abrupt decrease in luck. It seemed that there was some sort of communication going on, for the husks were no longer attracting anything… Curiously enough, as Shockwave pointed out, the other Creatures of this world was not attracted to energon at all.

Shifting the low grade for med grade netted them a few more easy catches and the same again when shifting to high grade and then to candy. Again it was only a few for each type and again no local wild life was attracted.

The caught ferals were put in medical stasis and sent immediately to the Nemesis’ holding cells. Only cursory examinations had been done and they had Shockwave and his team very confused, the ferals were not, seemingly, Cybertronians… but they were not of this world either. More than that would have to wait till they had their targeted number.

With this feral, if they caught him, they would finally hit one hundred. But as the warning of the doctored energon had somehow gone out, so had the warning of the hunters… each hunt, target big or small, had been more difficult than the last.

And this one was magnificent, difficult… exhilarating! Megatron had to admit that this groon on Prime three, a groon that should have been a mere seven orn, had been more fun than he had had in a long time. A few trips back to Cybertron via the Nemesis gig had been needed but for the most part this had been a… yes, a vacation for him.

The only question he had had to really struggle with was which feral to keep for himself. There were so many pretty ones to chose from, any of them would look good, polished, collared and tamed, at his pedes in his throne room.

If, of course, they proved to be nothing but sophisticated creatures.

If they proved to be more, well… there were options that he would not object to! Oh no, not at all…

A cry of pain went up and he watched the little feral take down two would be captors, energon flying in deceptively graceful arches from the sharp claws. A hunt without injuries had been nonexistent after the thirtieth catch. This one, however, was proving very costly and he had little patience left… this one, _yes_ , this one would be his.

Megatron had taken down a few of the ferals… no more and no less than most of the others involved in this hunt. But the desperation in the little feral, the way he fought all out, it called to him. Once long ago he had fought like that, when he was at the very bottom of Cybertronian society and fought for his life every orn on the gladiatorial pits of Tarn. His life had changed a lot, and so many times, but he still remembered and even sometimes missed that simplicity of a time where staying online had been all he needed to worry about. Of course… he missed the same thing from his happy sparklinghood, before his family fell in disgrace and he lost them all.

That was what he saw in this one, the need to live. He would give him that, but in a far better way than what he had here!

Yet another mech went down, cussing like mad as one leg was mutilated by sharp claws and a chunk taken out of his hip plating by equally sharp dental plates. He reached them before the feral could get his claws free and closed his hand around a slim shoulder, one finger curling about the seemingly frail neck joint.

“Desist!” it was not that he thought the feral could understand, but it was as close to a roar as he could come. He got a prompt response in the form of a snarl and the snapping of the ferals jaws just inches from his plating. Not a moment later pain flared as the little one successfully freed his claws and promptly raked them down Megatron’s own armor.

“Fraggit, you little~” Megatron had no idea what made him slam the small feral into the ground chest first. It was not violent enough to harm him but it certainly seemed to stun him for a moment before he began clawing madly at the rust speckled dirt. The bucking and clawing was enough that Megatron actually had to lie on the feral mech with his full weight. Oddly enough he stiffened under him, furious hissing changing into mewls that had an almost confused quality… and perhaps a bit of pain.

“Fragging get me a pair of cuffs!” someone scrambled to get him a pair and he got the subdued feral into them with a surprisingly minimal amount of trouble. It was a relief, the way the little one had struggled could have meant serious harm… both to more hunters and the feral himself.

Unfortunately handing the little one off proved to be easier said than done, he struggled as soon as Megatron was not the one holding him. It had happened with a few of the others too, when one hunter had had to get physical with one to subdue them they seemed to calm, but only for the one who had brought them down.

He resigned himself to carrying the feral to the shuttle where he could be put in medical stasis for the journey to Cybertron.

* * *

The journey home to Cybertron had been the silence before the storm. Waking and containing the ferals were a nightmare come true, but at least Shockwave figured out that they communicated via sounds, scents and chassis language. As opposed to just one, to Cybertronians more recognizable, method. He also found out that it was prudent to keep each one in his tiny habitat as opposed to giving them one large for sharing. They were not from the same area on the planet and they acted highly aggressive towards each other. Two, who were incidentally from almost opposite sides of Prime three, had nearly managed to kill each other before this had been fully understood.

The solution was to wake the ferals up individually and put them into barren padded cells while small habitats could be prepared. A few of the mechs would go directly to someone who would attempt to tame them, like Megatron’s blue and red beauty. He had already had a habitat prepared and so could take his new pet home in the stasis pod almost at once. Shockwave had declared the little feral healthy and strong.

Cleaned up the little one was positively stunning, a delicate shadow ring pattern splashing on every part of him not already black. Megatron placed a control collar on him before he brought him out of stasis. It would simply induce stasis if need be, nothing else.

Since they had had a groon to prepare, instead of the seven orns planned, he had had a proper habitat prepared, one part was a large airy but sparsely, and sturdily, furnish room and the other part was a domed garden of plants taken from the feral’s world.

Currently the little feral was still recharging and, as an extra precaution, was cuffed to the berth. Some of the ferals had fairly exploded out of recharge and into violence. These beings were intensely unpredictable…

He watched the feral for a time, cataloging his features, and just outright admiring the seemingly delicate beauty, his coloring and almost wishing he was more than he seemed to be. It was rare for him to see someone he felt such an instant and powerful attraction to…

Sadly there was nothing behind those pretty faceplates, or at least it did not seem so. This being, this feral mech was controlled only by instincts and though similar enough to a Cybertronian that cross species mating seemed possible… no. When, if, he took a lover he wanted an equal not a beast. No matter how beautiful the beast was…

On the berth the little feral stirred, his tail jerking, the tip of it twitching from side to side. His hands clenched, the claws curling into his palm plating. And all of a sudden the mech was entirely online, up and snarling with anger and bright panic in the beautiful blue optics as he fought cuffs and chains.

“Stop that!” Megatron rumbled even as he rose from his seat. To his surprise the feral immediately recoiled, staring at him with wide optics. He walked the few stops needed, noting that the little one did not cower from him as much as tried to get into a defensive position.

He was covering his interface panel, curling forward to hide his chest plating from view. Following his every move with wary intensity, his surroundings seemed inconsequential compared to the threat coming at him. No… Megatron paused, not threat he was not sure what the feral saw him as but it was not precisely a threat.

A hunch made him bend down over the feral and push him back on the berth, forcefully enough to break his balance. Immediately he was hissed at, the hands with their sharp claws lashed out only to falter and hover uncertainly, the slim legs were held tightly together and the slender tail coiled around them.

The little one was defending his virtue… well, trying to but why didn’t he react with violence. There was fear enough in the blue optics, the small yellow pupils wide enough to appear round. The entire slender chassis shook from the force of the feelings. When he reached out and tilted the feral’s head back his answer was an actual whimper. A panicky sound that just did not seem right coming from a being who had managed to slash though his plating.

Fangs were bared to him, it seemed that all he wanted to do was lash out… so why not? Megatron was well within reach even with the chains on. Slowly he bent lower, reached out for a wrist and keyed the cuff open. Nothing happened… nothing happened when the second one fell either.

Odd…

He pulled away and the feral immediately scooted away from him, optics locked on him the entire time. When he had wedged himself into a corner of the berth he finally looked around the room, panic flared and then the pupils contacted a bit…

Megatron turned his head to see what the feral was looking at. It was the door out into the domed garden. His momentary inattention was enough for the feral though, who leapt off the berth and disappeared out the open door. He could not help a small chuckle at that, a sound that was cut off as an angry yowl was heard from outside.

The feral spent the rest of his first light cycle on Cybertron attempting to get out of the domed garden. Yowling and hissing like mad when his every move was blocked by though crystal glass.

* * *

The taming of his new pet began with fuel. For whatever reason the feral utterly refused to take anything liquid from him, even when presented in a faux husk. It might have been because of their initial hunting method, since Shockwave had the same problem with his ninety research subjects, but for whatever reason another method of fueling was needed.

The solution proved to be gel cubes. Not the same energon used in candy, but also not a facsimile of the energy fluid from their homeworlds creatures. Despite the rest of them being hungry Shockwave started feeding one for an orn, checking that there would be no bad reaction to being fed with pure energon.

It did not put Megatron in a good mood, his little feral spent the time weakly clawing at the crystal glass dome intermixed with curling up making horrible lost hungry noises. By the time he got the go ahead from Shockwave the feral did not even hiss when he picked him up from his patch of rusty dirt and carried him into the sparsely furnished room.

Megatron had to admit that he much preferred him hissing and clawing. But at least the feral had no qualms at all about taking the gel cubes, almost biting his fingers a few times in his hurry to get fuel.

A few orn after that ordeal the feral was as active as ever, continuously trying to get out of the dome. He led Megatron a merry chase every time he was to be fed or trained. After some consideration he let the feral starve a little, though he did not like it, simply resting in the sparsely furnished room, reading reports that had to be read and fueling himself. It was surprisingly soothing despite the occasionally angry yowls breaking the silence.

Hoping that he would come to him on his own accord when his tank was empty enough…

Three quarters of the orn went by when he put a datapad down and saw the little feral sit on the floor before the chair he reclined on. Well away from him but…

“Hello there,” he purred low, not making any sudden moves but very slowly moving his left hand to the cold box holding the feral’s fuel. Taking one out he slowly moved it till he had it held out in front of him, just barely dangling from two fingers.

Blue optics narrowed, the too large yellow pupils growing larger, rounder… he barely registered the move before most of the gel cube had been snatched from his hold. Unfortunately for the feral the frail fuel did not take well to such treatment and he had to lick it off his claws, not getting much energy from such a energy taking move.

Megatron licked his fingers clean before taking a new cube, holding it out enticingly. Bright optics flickered between the cube and him… it was snatched just as fast as the other, with the same frustrating result. The feral was growling quietly to himself as he desperately cleaned off his claws. His optics did dart to the storage box but Megatron simply took it and put it in his lap. The pretty audio shells moved to lie flat along the curve of the blue helmet…

Interesting, the feral clearly understood the action. At least as far as that he would not get fed by trying to steal it… they were smart! How smart exactly he hoped Shockwave would figure out quickly.

By the end of this feeding he had the little feral plucking cubes from his hold as delicately as could be done. And when the feral was full he retreated to a corner of the room and began cleaning himself off… Megatron had to beat a rather hasty retreat at that, chocked at how he reacted to the sheer sensuality of the act.

For now the feral was just a smart creature… nothing else…

But by Unicron’s horns and Primus shaft! If there had ever been created a mech to be the embodiment of pure sexual appeal…

* * *

Megatron found that he had to resort to strategic retreats rather a lot over the coming orn, though the little feral slowly found rest in his captivity that simply made him more prone to do what was normal for him around the ruler. Like settle down and begin cleaning his long, long, legs with his glossa. In fact the feral was scarily flexible…

During that first groon Shockwave’s tests showed that the ferals had some form of communication between them but it was only if something threatened one of them that it worked. It had been found out by pure accident, they had attempted the same with positive feedback but instead an abusive mech was found among the lab staff by the simple expediency that not even the most acclimated of the feral mechs would come near him without hissing and attempting to claw him. Shockwave was deeply ashamed and yet also ecstatic at this breakthrough.

He also noted that the pure energon gel seemed to have an effect on the ferals. They seemed… brighter now than when they had snatched them away, less controlled by instinct. But he was not entirely sure if it was the pure energy they now fed on instead of the life fluids they had ingested before, or it was the surroundings somehow.

The tests he preformed, the scans he took… all they did was confuse him. All he would say was that it was as yet inconclusive what they were, but that he was sure they were not indigenous to Prime three.

While all of these tests were performed on the feral mechs in the lab the ten mechs that lived in more private quarters showed more progress in their behavior. Megatron noted it too.

About fifteen orn after he had brought him back here he noted that the mech spent as much time looking at him with those exotically tilted blue optics and yellow slit pupils as he did attempting to find a way out.

Twenty-seven orn in, he saw the feral attempt to emulate how he used furniture… even light switches. At that point he made his own little experiment and began reading aloud from whatever work he had with him at the time.

“-the Kaon region shows an increase in alkóol production by roughly seven percent, this increase is due to the new contract with Charr. The contract details a number of~” he broke off abruptly when something small and warm, and somewhat prickly, climbed his legs and proceeded to make itself at home in his lab.

As soon as the feral had settled down he looked up at him, optics narrowing to slits, dermas quirked in something like a smirk. After a moment of hesitance he returned to reading the rapport out loud.

“-details a number of new trades the colony is interested in aside from the alkóol~OUCH!” he jumped a little and nearly cracked the screen on the report pad. Looking down he found the same half lidded optics looking up and him, hands kneading his leg plating… with the claws partially out. Now that he was not speaking he also noticed a low level purring that thrummed though the small chassis on his lap. He winched again at another dig of the claws but did not do anything but move the hands a little so as not to get the full brunt of the claws before returning to his report.

It became the norm, rather than the rarity in about four orn. Sometimes he barely had the chance to sit down before the feral attempted to climb him. It could be painful but the feral under stood pain fairly fast and stopped clawing him, when he thought about it at least. As soon as the feral relaxed kneading seemed to be an unavoidable instinctual reaction.

* * *

“So he has been doing this for the last half goon, my lord?” Shockwave’s precise voice made the feral’s ears flicker back and forth. He was not used to the sound or the presence of a mech other than Megatron and the two servants that cleaned the rooms and on rare occasions fed him when Megatron could not.

“A little more than that… they have been here for what a groon and twenty orn?” he nodded to himself and then focused back on his councilor. “None of the others have shown an inclination to do this?”

“A few of those not at the research center have shown similar inclinations but only when their caretakers spend a prolonged amount of time with them, lord Megaton,” the purple councilor shrugged expressively, “it is not all that do their chosen duty with as much diligence as you.”

“Hmm… I might have a word or two with them, they were chosen after all because they assured they would have the time needed for this experiment,” the warm weight on his lap shifted, the feral sat up and glanced between him and Shockwave tail lashing agitatedly.

“He senses your moods often?” Shockwave’s sharp optic took in the posture change and general reaction, “that is remarkable, lord Megatron!”

“Mmme…ron?” the sound was somewhat similar to the mewls and other sounds the feral normally produced, but he was staring fixatedly at the councilor, and Shockwave was staring back just as intently.

“Megatron,” it was a little odd to hear his name pronounced so clearly by the councilor scientist.

“Meg… ron?” abruptly the feral lost interest and shifted again to clean his right hand and forearm.

“Remarkable! Did you just hear that, my lord? He tried to emulate your name!” the antenna on the councilor’s helmet were vibrating, a rather fascinating sight that almost distracted Megatron from the shocking happening.

“I heard, explain to me how that is possible,” he was not asking, he was demanding.

“I… I will find out, my lord! I simply need to change a few things at the lab, this is… this should not be possible, even simple emulation should not be… they do not have a verbal language!” Shockwave bowed and excused himself, too ecstatic to wait for allowance.

Megatron shook his helmet thoughtfully before looking down at the feral, gently petting his back.

“What is this now, little one?”

“Megron…” the feral purred, rising onto his knees and bumping the curve of his helmet against Megatron’s chin for a moment, before he jumped down and ran out the door to his garden.

“…” Megatron shook his helmet again. Things were moving faster than he could follow with his pet…

* * *

“My lord, my fellow councilors, I have news… I am not sure how to… how to fully explain this but I will do my best,” Shockwave paused, looking around. His air was one of seriousness and concern. His optics returned to Megatron and the feral mech curled up on his lap.

Four goon since the ferals had all been brought here… around two and a half groon since his little feral had begun emulating words. A few of the others had also begun doing so, but none of them were as far along as his little one.

He should give him a name…

“The ferals are mechs of Cybertronian origin,” he had already been told this, but the other councilors reacted with shock and a few with annoyance and accusations.

“Silence!” Megatron bellowed over the din and the feral on his lap hissed at the assembled council before curling up again with an annoyed grumble. Megatron stroked his back and nodded to Shockwave to let him know he could continue.

“I do not know how this came to be but since certain events happened we have looked more closely at their core coding and their spark frequencies… they are, they were once, Cybertronians, but the code is old. They have no transformation codes, no integrated weapons coding. In short the coding in them if from the first disaporria… it is the era of the generation ships, my fellow councilors. Furthermore there is some evidence that that fundamental coding was warped on purpose a very long time ago,” the purple mech paused clearly not sure how to continue.

“I… I do not know how this happened, but I wish to return to Prime three and see if I can find the remnants of the ship. It is a long shot, if we find anything it may simply be a husk but maybe we are lucky.”

“And what about the ferals?” one councilor, one of those that had one as pet himself, asked.

“It is clear that with proper fuel, training and eventual education they will be able to exist as equals in our society. That development will be quickened if they go through a systems flush since much of their limited processor capabilities currently is caused by a… a residue from the life fluids they survived on, on Prime three,” Shockwave paused again and glanced at Megatron.

“They will continue to behave much as they do now though, that is a part of their coding warped or not… further more they are able to spark with any unaltered Cybertronian. I wish to bring up the possibility of a rescue operation… these, our distant relatives, might exist well enough on Prime three, but they are hardly alive there, they are Cybertronians and should be healed and made a place for either here on their home world or on one of the colony worlds!”

It was debated for nearly three joor, but when Megatron rose and noted that he would support such an operation before leaving the council in favor of feedings his… the feral he was taking care of, the decision was made. The ferals would be saved from their innocuous existents on a world that was not ideal for them.

* * *

Megatron had a problem…

The problem was currently seated in a specially made chair that accommodated his tail while he was given a visual writing lesson. Said tail was lashing in slow-motion, moving back and forth in a way that fairly hypnotized him.

His problem indeed.

When he had ‘known’ that the feral was just that, a feral creature with a highly pleasing form he had been able to contain his lust. At least for the most part. Only once in a while had he felt some regret that something as beautiful as his pet was would only be able to breed with others of its kind.

Now he was not only a pet but he was also not quite free on the proverbial ‘mate market’. Quick witted and intelligent, voraciously learning everything anyone was willing to teach… and utterly young, curious and innocent.

How could he justify making him his lover? He had not even given him a name! He was still just ‘Prime three number one hundred’. Before he had not wanted to chose a pet name he would come to hate, he had wanted it to fit the little feral mech’s personality… now he felt like it would be a violation.

It did not change that just looking at him made his spike hard, made it press against his panel with all the hunger he kept from the rest of his countenance.

And it did not help that the little feral still liked to be tactile, still crawled into his lap to curl up. Shockwave had said it would be a bad idea to dissuade that, since it was a part of the feral code that made him do this… though the councilor scientist had refused any deeper knowledge of why a natural loner would need to be so tactile.

Megatron had not wanted to give himself away and so had let it go at that.

His existence was one that could best be described as living Pit… the only place he was alone was in his own berth at dark cycle where he could finally take his aching swollen spike in hand and find a little bit of precious relief…

* * *

“Megatron!” he looked up from the rather boring report on trade and was instantly caught by the big blue optics with their exotic tilt and strange yellow pupils. They seemed… overly bright somehow? Of course that could be his own projection, Primus knew that he had absolutely no rest from the thoughts of berthing the exotic little feral…

“Yes?” he tried not to sound tense but it was hard as slim, claw tipped fingers were resting on his thighs, the lithe chassis leaning on his knees as the smaller mech tip pedded to be nearer.

“Why don’t I have a designation?”

“Oh, well… you have not chosen one yet,” Megatron had not been expecting that question, ever. But he supposed he should have, he had agonized enough over it himself. Whether to give him one or not, let him choose or just randomly go with~

“I don’t want to be Prime three one zero zero anymore! You should give me a designation,” he winced when claws scraped his leg armor, a sure sign that the little feral was upset.

“You should choose one yourself, p… uh…” calling him pet was not a good idea either. It had been, and was, so hard not calling him that!

“But I am your pet! Pets get their names from their owner, right? That’s what the pad says about drone pets and tamed Creatures, so why haven’t you given me one?” Unicron! The mech should not be pouting like that it made him want to suck on those pouty dermas, nibble them and slip his glossa past their barrier to… yes.

“You are my guest! Not my pet, little one, you are sapient and sentient as so you can never be mine, no one can ever own you!” to his utter surprise the feral’s audio shells folded down unhappily and he pushed away, wrapping his arms and tail around himself.

“So it’s true that you don’t want me? That that’s why I don’t have a designation?” Megatron flickered his optics in surprise at the strong and negative reaction, rose from his chair, and put the report away. Kneeling by the smaller mech he gently took a hold of a slim shoulder pauldron.

“I don’t see what one has to do with the other, little one, I do want you… but I don’t want to just give you a name, I don’t want to own you,” he tried to speak as gently and reasonably as he could but he was not at all sure if he was saying the right thing. If the stiffening of the little feral’s stance was anything to go by…

“Then why are you always so cold and distant! Why are you never the one to touch me!” the smaller mech lashed out verbally and physically before he turned and bolted into his domed garden leaving Megatron to cover the dripping cuts on his cheek.

Frag…

He had never been so hard in his life!

* * *

His little feral became more and more hostile, interspersed with tantalizing moments where he would curl up in his lap and purr, or settled down to clean himself, almost provokingly, where Megatron could not help but see him.

When he finally approached Shockwave the poor councilor had little help for him. The rehabilitation facility was rife with the same sort of behavior, the confusion in the staff rampant and the ferals exhibiting both possessiveness and aggression with no apparent reason behind which came forth or towards whom it was directed.

Eventually something would have to give, Megatron had not considered the possibility that it might be him.

Another visit to the rehabilitation facility had only earned him the stunning visual of a put upon Shockwave trying to dislodge a small blue feral with the loveliest dark blue stripes. The scientists were struggling to comprehend the collective shift in coding that had occurred within their charges but could not say what it might be that caused it. Or why it was in all of them… new arrivals or of the first one hundred caught.

There was no Cybertronian precedence, no similar coding strain…

“Little one?” he called out, palming the door to the feral’s room shut. He was hoping he might get him to talk, that maybe if he just managed to ask the right way~

Pain! He gasped and wrenched the smaller mech off him, tossing him aside without thinking. Gashes were open down his left side, energon willing up sluggishly.

The feral landed easily despite the violent toss and sprang at him again, claws out and fangs bared. Megatron backhanded him out of the air, staring in shock as the small mech collapsed for a moment before gathering himself to another jump.

Another attack.

It made no sense! Why would the little feral attack him now? Why at all?

Megatron evaded this time, easily as the groggy mech almost missed entirely all on his own. The little one did not land right, slamming shoulder first into the floor and sliding a few meters on the smooth surface before managing to dig his claws in.

“What are you doing?” it was a shout more than a question but he only got a growl in return as the feral dragged himself upright, and launched his slim chassis at him again claws outstretched.

Something snapped, he was still worried, still confused but he would not allow this! This was not natural! This behavior had been purged, Shockwave had assured him that the ferals would not fall back into this mindless, focused on survival stage!

Again he backhanded the little mech, but this time he did not let him get up. Hauling him up by his shoulder pauldrons he more or less slammed him into the nearest wall, one arm over the broad chest the other gathering both wrists so that the feral could not claw him again.

“Talk to me, little one?” but there was no reaction to his words, only to his superior strength. His captive moaned, a sibilant, drawn out sound that nearly drowned out the click of his panel. The scent of thick, rich lubricant was unmistakable though, heady enough to make him growl without even thinking.

The sound sent a shudder though the feral, who responded with mewling, a twitch of narrow hips and by tilting his helmet to give Megatron access to his unprotected throat.

That was when it clicked, when he understood… it was also when he stopped caring. Though he did not stop remembering.

Dropping the smaller mech to the flooring he crouched over him, forcing him into a position that had been burned into his memory banks since Shockwave showed him the low resolution recording. His little feral looked gorgeous like this… on all fours, rump up and tail submissively bent aside. If this was instinct… he growled and pushed any doubts he had away.

Releasing his spike with great relief, he pressed on the smaller mech’s back with one hand, keeping him down, and used the other to gently slide a finger into the dripping valve. The feral growled and clawed at the floor, leaving grooves behind even in that tough metal. In answer he added another finger, earning a high pitched whine and a push back against his invading fingers.

There was doubt that this was what his feral wanted, needed… _craved_ with every fiber of that gorgeous lithe chassis. All he was worried about was if he could give it, do it right without harm to the mech. He was not one of them, mating like a creature in heat… it did not come naturally to him and there was his size to consider too.

Still, when his feral growled again, helmet thrown back and audio shells flattened he added another finger and scissor them apart. Lubricant gushed out, and there was plenty of give in the valve walls, judging by the yowl he got… he pulled his fingers out and covered the small chassis with his own.

Copying what he remembered, he bit down on the left shoulder pouldron, using one hand to balance on and the other to guide his spike to the waiting valve. As soon as the tip was in any control or choice was taken from him as the feral mech simply rocked back, seating him fully inside. It made him see stars!

No… fragging _supernovas_!

Never had anyone taken him so easily, oh he was sure there had to be some pain there judging by the tone of the noises that poured from his partner. But it apparently did not matter. Control however did, if he had guessed right, and right now his little feral was making a grab for it even from the bottom. He growled and locked both hands around the slim waist, preventing any more movement.

It was not taken well, the little wilderbeast tried to claw him. He answered it with a harsh thrust. The feral clawed at the floor, he thrust again, then again… the high pitched yowling returned.

So fast and rough was it? He grinned around his mouthful of armor, pressing harder, grinding against that perfect aft before pulling back again for another hard thrust. If that was what his little feral wanted, that was what he was getting.

The world faded, everything narrowing down to the yowling, fighting, screaming mech in his arms, the sound of claws digging into floor plating. The sound of plating slapping hard against plating, the squelching of lubricant being forced out of an overflowing valve.

And then finally the howl as the feral shattered in his arms, valve clamping down on his so strongly it forced his own overload to crash in on him.

Slowly he let go, let the limp mech under him slide to the flooring, hoping that this would take the violence out of him. The feral squirmed, turning over and latched on to him immediately, he clung on even as he righted himself thinking he needed to get away from another attack.

It was not an attack at all… with incredible agileness the little mech seated himself back on Megatron’s spike, purring shrilly all the while. He had to be sore, had to be! Megatron knew damn well that _he_ was sore himself!

There was no deterring the little one though and he did not really want to either. He had been worried, and still painfully aroused. It was stunning to think that this beautiful little feral wanted him like this…

Not that he kept thinking for very long, eagerly reclaiming control and thrusting up into the welcoming clenching heat.

So lost was he that he forgot that this second part of the mating always lead to a merge. It was his luck, and pure luck at that, the ferals of Prime three could not bond while heat coding had a hold of them.

The merge was still powerful, debilitating in its energy drain. It was all that he could get both of them to the berth afterwards… the little feral was certainly out of it, and inexplicably heavy in his tiredness.

Though he had no name for it during it, this first heat cycle lasted five long orn. Every time his feral woke it was with only coupling in his processor. He needed it like any mech needed fuel. And he needed the aggression too, needed to be subdued and made to take it…

If Megatron ever noticed that what he cleaned from them both, when he was occasionally energized enough to be able to clean them, was almost only lubricant, he did not remember it at the end of the cycle.

* * *

“Orion,” Megatron looked up, startled. The feral was curled up on the berth, his berth, reading a datapad of something – he had assumed educational.

Since the heat cycle, as Shockwave had dubbed it in all his disheveled, sated glory, was over the feral had returned to a loving, hands on relationship. He did not actively seek interfacing, and certainly not merging, but he did not shy away from Megatron either. And when he sought intimacy the feral all too eagerly took him.

It was barely a groon behind them…

“Orion what?” bright blue optics, half shuttered, glanced up from the pad before it was waved vaguely at him.

“A designation, Shockwave gave me a pad with names last time he examined me… since you won’t choose one for me,” here the feral unshuttered his optics to sent him a pointed glare, “I’ve finally begun looking at it… I _like_ Orion.”

“Hmm… Orion… It does have a nice ring to it. But Prime Orion is a little…” he shrugged and the feral mewled thoughtfully.

“The only other ones I really like so far is Optimus and Pax… and neither one of them sound good with Prime in front of them either! Do I have to be called Prime as first designation?” the pad was carelessly thrown onto the berth cover and the feral rolled over, wiggling sensuously his tail tip flickering playfully back and forth.

“Technically no? Though for Shockwave’s sake you should keep a P in your name somewhere…” he did not much wish to have a discussion about that with the councilor but neither did he want to argue with the little feral.

“A P…” tail lashing a little more agitatedly the feral stared off into space before a grin stretched his dermas and he flipped back over. His purr was audible and Megatron sighed at the kneading he was unconsciously engaged in, again. His poor berth coverings did not have long lives these orn. “I have the perfect one! Orion Pax… it has a P, do you like it?”

Now why did he have the sense that if he said ‘no’ it would be discarded again? The feral was so very insistent about his dominance… He had fought it more in that damn cycle of his! But he did like it…

“Orion Pax… I do like it, you could also have called yourself Orion Prime though, or Optimus Prime? Or Optimus Pax…” the kneading stopped.

“Which one do you like best?” he huffed and put down the report he had been reading, ready to take the argument right until he lifted his helmet again and met the exotic blue optics with their yellow pupils.

“Uh… I… I like Orion best, Orion Pax,” and if he felt a little bit guilty for choosing for the other mech, for Orion, it vaporized the instance he had the little one on his lap kissing him.

* * *

“I’m fine,” Megatron sighed and kneeled down, bending low enough to be able to look under his berth. Too bright optics reflected light back at him in a manner he would never get used to.

“Then why are you under our berth refusing to come out?” the optics flickered and Orion hissed threateningly at him.

“I like it here!”

“Shockwave is here to see you,” offering the fact he reached into the dark space and beckoned for the mech to come to him.

“I don’t like him!” that was a blatant lie but there was something almost panicky in the bright optics. Megatron huffed and told himself that it would not help to get angry… this was likely an instinct thing again…

“So he only comes out when you bring him fuel?” Shockwave’s voice was calm, and still came from way over by the door.

“Yes, it’s very frustrating, I am not sure why… and what is worse is I think he is somehow…” Megatron trailed off, getting up from the floor and made a helpless gesture. “His abdominal plating is expanding, but I don’t understand how that could happen, it’s not much but it is there!”

“He’s also carrying then. If I may ask, lord Megatron, have you merged with him after his heat cycle was over?” Shockwave of course knew that Orion was now a permanent fixture in his berth, he knew everything. But even if he had not known he would likely have guessed it since this was hardly the berth of Orion’s own room. Megatron was in no way or manner ashamed for his choice in berth mate and if he knew how he would ask the feral to bond him.

“Carrying? What! But that is impossible! We never merged deeply enough for a bond to form!” Megatron stopped and vented, forcing his cooling systems back online and his fans to expel hot air.

“I apologize, councilor, no, we have not merged since, he does not seem much interested in that part of our intimacy…” sadly enough or he would have ensured a bond! Especially if the councilor scientist was right…

“Their coding works differently, lord Megatron, when in heat they can merge without bonding… the merge however is more than deep enough for them to conceive a new spark,” starring Megatron noted that the other mech dipped his head, long antenna drooping. “They are in fact very fertile… ah… all the ferals that managed to mate, no matter they mate, have conceived new sparks.”

Laughing, Primus shaft! How could he not be bellowing laughter? This was… this was good news, fantastic news.

He was going to be a Creator…

Megatron abruptly sat down, missing the berth beside him but not really caring that he ended up on the floor.

“I’m going to be a ‘Tor?” his chassis buzzed oddly, shock? Yes… possibly, certainly.

“Yes, my lord, we are both about eight groons from being… er, ‘Tors…” Shockwave hesitated on the abbreviation. It was not like him to shorten words like that.

“But, my lord, you should bond with him. I have… ah, that is… I took Blurr as bondmate a half groon ago, uh, that was what I wished to tell you. Outside of heat they can bond like all Cybertronians but do not seem able to conceive…”

“I should, yes, I was not aware that it was possible. And I did not think to ask, I thought I had plenty of time… but this of course changes everything!” without a bond he could not legally claim the sparkling as his, not even if they bonded after. Sparklings from unbounded couples were an extremely rare occurrence.

“Thank you, councilor Shockwave, please leave,” he had a feral to coax out now.

Shockwave left quietly, Megatron did not care, did not even look, he simply heard the swoosh of the door and the click of the lock engaging. Smart mech, now…

“Orion, come on out, love,” another hiss answered his request, hmm.

“I’ll turn off the light, will that be better?” he sent the command, waiting calmly right there on the floor.

After a half breem his patience was rewarded, the smaller mech crawling out and into his lap, purring as he embraced him.

“You don’t like the light, do you, love? I should have remembered… mm, it’s fine now,” rising he lifted the smaller mech with him, cradling him close. It was time to make this permanent, he was sure Orion would not protest.

He was right.

The little feral was eager for him, eager for his spike to sink into his valve and for his spark to retake his own. Orion was perfect, not because he was so willing to be submissive, but because he was just as willing to fight and take. He could not hope for a better mate…

The little one’s memories were different, so raw, so filled with information from senses that Megatron hardly used. His spark was different, smaller, denser, green, blue and streaked with gold to Megatron’s calm red one.

He let himself be drowned in the other, the physical pleasure and the mental. Orion Pax followed him trustingly, loving him the only way he knew how… by trust. The feral might not be able to label what he felt but Megatron could feel it, the same that he felt for Orion was echoed back at him. Fiercer, wilder, burning with all the passion of the young feral mech… but still love.

Megatron felt a lot calmer, a lot more in balance as he curled up around the muttering more than half in recharge feral that had turned his life upside down.

Little Orion Pax…

One large hand snuck between an arm and a side and rested over the bulging abdominal armor.

* * *

“ _What_?” the roar had helmets turning throughout the brightly lit medical bay. He could have requested a private examination but since Orion had to be sedated for this in the first place he had figured that it would be better for his people to see them both. Not many had yet seen the small feral their lord had taken as bond mate after all.

However this little complication was not something he had counted on.

Somewhere a sparkling began to cry and he realized that he had been more than a little loud. Whoops…

“I am sorry, medic, please continue with the explanation.”

“Y-yes, my lord Megatron, ah… your bondmate is carrying,” here the mech visibly flinched a little as he was about to repeat what had made the larger mech react the first time, “twins.”

“And this is possible how?” the gentle tone was completely at odds with the previous roar.

“I… I don’t know, my lord, but it is… it has happened and uh… they are not split spark. It is two whole sparks and two whole protoforms he is carrying. I would guess larger than normally for the f-ferals but he is healthy and so are they.”

“Twins, like some organics can have multiples? Incredible…” he looked down on his sedated mate, the feral still so beautiful, if unnaturally still. Two little sparklings growing inside his swollen plating…

“Yes, my lord… h-he is not the only one of the ferals to carry multiple sparklings. Most of them carry twins, a few even triplets,” with the steady red gaze off of him the medic regained some of his former aplomb.

Megatron could not care less, he just wanted to take his mate home and cuddle him in the dark of their berth room. The ‘den’ that his little mate craved so much right now…

Twins?

* * *

“Come now, shhh…” Megatron gently wiped the condensation off of his mate’s forehelmet, letting the other near mangle his free hand. It did not matter to him, the small scratches could be fixed.

What did matter was the splitting abdominal plates and the vertical line opening in his mate's dark blue protoform. A line though which a little red hand with tiny soft claws poked. The first one was out already, a bright yellow color, with lots of deep black and dark charcoal accents.

And a vocalizer set to crack glass.

His twins, their twins…

As the second one slowly eased from his Carrier’s abdomen he showed himself to be a red mirror image of his twin. And both had the same lovely shadow ring pattern as Orion… they would truly be stunning adults! Right now though they were tiny soft armored and in need of protection, care and love.

Orion’s love and his love… it was no longer a question of them being worthy of him, but if he was ever, would ever be worthy of the gifts he had received by Primus grace and Unicron’s mercy.

Another set of screams announced that their second twin was alive and well, and just as determined to crack glass as his brother.

“Orion, love, how are you feeling?” he bend over the small feral, not caring that the medics were busy cleaning him up and getting him closed again.

“Give me the cubs and I’ll be a lot better,” even thick with exhaustion the threat in that lovely voice was clear, promising mayhem if he was not given his offspring to care for.

Megatron chuckled quietly and motioned for the two assistants to come with their twins.

This was what he wanted to remember, his bondmate, his sparklings… his world whole and happy.

There was no longer any restlessness in him, he had all he needed right there with him.

**Author's Note:**

> beta by AKzeal


End file.
